Cinderella Screwed Me Over

Chapter Twenty

Stephanie rinsed off her plate and stuck it in my dishwasher. “Last night was just what I needed. It felt good to relax and laugh and forget about everything else for a while.” She wiped her hands on the dishtowel hanging from my oven handle and spun to face me. “I still feel bad for messing up your date with Jake, though.”

I drained my glass of orange juice. “You didn’t mess it up. Jake’s lived without a coffee table for weeks. Another day’s not going to make a difference to him.”

“You know, back when I dated bad boys, I was always yelling and fighting with them—”

“Then making up with them and breaking up the next day.”

“Only to make up again.” She shook her head. “What a mess. But Anthony and I never fight. We occasionally disagree, sure, but not the yelling fight like we got into last night.” She leaned against the counter. “I thought that getting together with Anthony had made me mellow. Turns out, I can still get fired up.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” I stuck my glass in the dishwasher and closed it. “It’ll keep him on his toes.”

“I read this article that said the reason you fight more when you get engaged is because you’re more committed to the relationship. Since you’re working to stay together, the little things seem more important.”

The way Stephanie looked at me, I knew I was supposed to step in and make her feel better. “You know that your married friends would be better for this ‘everything’s going to be great’ pep talk.”

“I want to hear it from you,” she said. I could see the vulnerability in her eyes and hear it in her voice.

I thought of the things Karl had said about her and Anthony, how I could recite his opinion but knew it would come out insincere. I wanted to tell her that it was going to be difficult, but they could give it a fighting chance, and not to take it too hard if it didn’t work out. That wasn’t what she needed either, though. So I dug down deep, focused on the hope I was working on letting in, and said, “Anthony loves you, you love him, and your minor problems are ones that you can easily work through and live with. You two are going to make it.” I shot her a smile. “If only to prove me wrong.”

She pulled me into a hug. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.” She glanced at her watch and sighed. “I better get going. Thanks for the loaner outfit. Slumber parties are awesome. We should’ve never stopped having them.”

“I’m game anytime.”

“I should probably call first. You and Jake might want to have a few slumber parties of your own.”

“Okay, let’s not get carried away. I’ve barely been semi-dating him for a few weeks, and as you know, I have a strict rule about that.”

“Ah, yes,” Stephanie said. “The No-love, no-making-love rule. Now that’s one I agree with.”

“Yes and it’s a rule that no one, regardless of how hot or amazing he is, will convince me to break.”

A crease formed between Stephanie’s eyebrows. “I’m confused. If you follow all your rules, and make sure to not fall in love again, that means you’re planning on being celibate for the rest of your life.”

“Falling is the key word. You can care about someone, enough to have feelings of love, without being in love.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“What I mean is there’s a more realistic love than the love that you think is going to last forever.” I shook my head. “Look, I’ve already admitted I’m a little shaky on the details. You know, you don’t always have to point out the flaws with my plan.”

“Why not?” Stephanie asked. “You point out how flawed marriage is all the time.”

I wanted to argue, but she had me there. It couldn’t be easy to work so hard planning a wedding with me by her side, and she’d still stuck with me, the way she had since the day we met. “You’re right. And the truth is, I’m not sure what I’m going to do about the sex part of the relationship yet. I need to at least know the guy for a while, enough to care about him, but just realize that the love has an expiration date. Or something like that.” I blew out my breath, confused at my own logic, wishing it made more sense. “Until I figure out how to deal with the feelings that come along with sex, I’m not going to be crossing that line.

“Besides, this week I’ll be spending a lot of time with Barbara.” I grabbed my purse off the counter. “I doubt I’ll believe in anything resembling love after she’s done with me.”

…

On my shopping excursion with Barbara, I’d discovered a new furniture store on the west end of town. After we had wrapped up our day, I’d called Jake and asked him if he wanted to meet me at Odds and Ends Furniture Store.

I’d barely had enough time to eat a sandwich and get back to the store before Jake showed up. I led him toward the middle, where mini-living rooms surrounded us on all sides. Most of the rooms were monochromatic—not really how I liked to go—but they had several unique pieces.

“You said you wanted simple and modern. How do you feel about this set up?” I pointed to the black coffee table with chrome.

Jake stared at it, brow furrowed. “Why’s it so short?”

I tapped my finger to my lip as I studied it. “Hmm. It is a little short. There’s the three-tiered coffee table over there.” I motioned to the faux room to the right. “It’d be handy for hiding all your remotes. You can also twist it however you want, so think of the hours of entertainment. Or, if you like the futuristic, there’s a glossy white one…”

I searched around, trying to remember where I’d seen it. “Um, there. In that living room set up that looks like the North Pole. We wouldn’t go all white, but a little would work if we kept the other things more black than white.”

“How are you guys doing today?” a female voice asked.

I turned in search of the voice and saw a saleswoman with a red-lipped smile. Except for the black jacket—the jacket over her boob-squeezing corset top—she looked more like a stripper than a furniture saleswoman.

“We’re good,” I said. “We’re just looking around for living room furniture, seeing what hits us.”

She looked from me to Jake. “Oh, are you guys redecorating and working with what you have? Or are you moving into a new place?”

“Neither. We’re not living together. I’m his…” I wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m an interior designer. He’s got an empty bachelor pad, and I’m helping him decorate it. Our main focus is a coffee table so his dates don’t have to eat off their laps.”

The saleswoman ran a hand through her dark hair. “We can’t have that.” She put her hand on Jake’s elbow. “Come with me,” she purred. “I think I have just what you need.”

Rude! She’s totally flirting with him right in front of me.

I started to follow the two of them, but got distracted when I saw a lamp in the corner that would go great in my bedroom.

After a quick detour to get a closer look, I walked toward the back where I could see Jake and the saleswoman. Standing really close together.

“If you go with something like this, it’s more like a work of art than an ordinary table.” She leaned in, pressing up against him. “Girls like that.”

The coffee table was made up of clear cubes that flipped out every which way. “I think it looks pretentious,” I said. “Besides, it wouldn’t hide anything.”

Her eyes flicked to me, back to the coffee table, then landed on Jake. “I think it’s really hip. Some people can’t pull it off.” Those red lips of her curved into a flirtatious grin as she stared up at Jake. “But I think you could.”

I put my hand in the crook of Jake’s elbow—the one the salesgirl wasn’t plastered against. “I want to show you something.” I shot Miss Perky a tight smile. “Thanks for your help, but I think we’ll just wander around a bit. If we have any questions, we’ll let you know.”

“No problem.” She pulled a card out of her pocket and handed it to Jake. “Take this. That way if you have any questions later, you’ll know how to reach me.”

Just because Jake and I didn’t have a label on our relationship didn’t mean I wanted to watch a girl throw herself at him. I tightened my grip on his arm and led him toward a mock living room with a rug you could lose a zebra in. “Wow, that girl was all over you. Does that happen everywhere you go?”

The corners of his mouth turned up. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“Of course not. I just don’t think it was very professional. Unless her real profession is an escort. She is kind of dressed for it.”

“You’re the one who said you were my interior designer.” Jake hugged me into him, a smug expression on his face. “How much do I owe you, by the way?”

“You couldn’t afford me.” I glanced around, looking for where to go next. When I saw Miss Perky watching us, I grabbed Jake’s shirt and pulled him in for a kiss—the kind of kiss I don’t normally do in a public place.

Jake moved his lips to my ear and whispered, “I’m going to have to bring you here more often.”

While he was obviously amused by my jealousy, panic was winding through me, mixing in and making my stomach clench. This level of jealousy scared me because it burned more than it should.

Because it was the way I usually felt after I’d already fallen for a guy.